


oh, come what may

by rainingroses05



Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, F/F, Power Outage, Romance, idk this is just a random short little thing, who knows fdsfjkds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-28
Updated: 2018-03-28
Packaged: 2019-04-13 23:35:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14123283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainingroses05/pseuds/rainingroses05
Summary: "Then there’s Chloe standing beside her, and Max prays that she won’t ask her what she’s doing because she doesn’t know how to explain that she feels so hollow, and she’s looking for something to fill herself with."





	oh, come what may

**Author's Note:**

> title from "come what may" by daisy o'connor

            Max strikes a match and lights the candle by the kitchen sink. It casts a dancing shadow on the side of the refrigerator but doesn’t do much to lift the weight of the darkness. So, she lights another, and then one more, and the kitchen smells like she’s selling perfume out of it, but there’s light.

            It’s one of those days when you almost don’t realize you’re even awake until you find yourself lighting candles at 11 PM and wondering why time passes without letting you know. The power went out half an hour ago, the lamp beside the bed flickering before the entire room blinked out of existence.

            Chloe was already asleep.

            Max leans against the counter, palms pressed to the cold tile. It almost feels like she could sink right through it if she wanted to. The world is so fragile sometimes, falling apart at the seams. The flames burn down their wicks, creating lakes of wax to stand in.

            There’s a touch on her shoulder that’s so light it could be a breeze coming in through the window but still knocks the breath out of her throat. Then there’s Chloe standing beside her, and Max prays that she won’t ask her what she’s doing because she doesn’t know how to explain that she feels so hollow, and she’s looking for something to fill herself with.

            Chloe doesn’t ask.                                                                                             

            “The power’s out.”

            “It’ll come back on in the morning.” Chloe rubs her eyes sleepily, and Max wants to drag her back to bed and curl up beside her, but her feet can’t seem to move. “Come back to bed.”

            “I can’t sleep.” Max looks back at the candles. She blows on the nearest one, letting the flame dance and sway, stopping just before it goes out. Out of the corner of her eye she can see Chloe shifting slightly on her feet, watching her. “I think I’m just going to stay out here for a while,” she says softly, her way of letting Chloe know that she’s free to go, even as part of her wants to cling to her hand and beg her to stay.

            “I’ll keep you company,” Chloe says, and Max allows herself a flicker of a smile.

            They’re both quiet. There are times when they talk until the words aren’t so heavy, so saturated with guilt and fear, and there are times when the silent space between them is softer than any comfort could be. Max doesn’t know which she’d like this to be. Maybe she’d like to talk just for the sake of knowing she has something left to say.

            The thing is, it’s possible that everything worthwhile she had to express was drowned by something darker.

            She’s never been the best with words. That’s what pictures are for. But lately, picking up her camera sends a jolt through her like an electric shock.

            Chloe wraps an arm around her shoulders, gently, like she’s cradling something almost too fragile to touch. Everything about her is radiating safety, comfort.

            But she can’t save her from falling apart from the inside out.

               She blows out the nearest candle. Smoke spirals upward, only visible where it drifts into the light from the remaining flames. Max breathes in just a bit of it and coughs.

               Chloe picks up the candles left burning, one in each hand, and nudges Max’s arm with her elbow. “Come sit with me,” she says, so Max follows her to the couch. The light flickers over her face. She looks tired.

               Chloe sets the candles on the coffee table. Then she sits down and pats the cushion beside her. “Max?” she says, like a question, like an invitation.

               Max sits beside her.

               Chloe pulls a blanket off the arm of the couch and drapes it across the two of them. Max clutches it firmly with both hands, running her fingers over the soft fabric. She has the sudden urge to pull it up over both of their heads and give them somewhere to hide. When they were younger (read: an eternity ago), they’d huddle under the blankets of Chloe’s bed, light filtering through the sheets with a violet tinge, and whisper like they’d created their own private universe.

            Sometimes she thinks about how quickly your whole life can go spiraling off course. It seems implausible, the crazy things that happen to ordinary girls in small towns, but universes have a tendency to spin themselves out of control. Even the smallest, most secret ones.

            Besides, when you’re taking the fabric of space and time and tearing it into pieces, a week might as well be a thousand years. She’s held time between her fingers, and she still doesn’t understand it.       

            “Do you want to talk about it?” Chloe tucks her feet up beneath her, picking at the blanket. “You don’t have to. But I’d feel shitty if I didn’t ask,” she adds.

            “I just feel like I’m supposed to be doing something,” she says, which is vague and clarifies almost nothing.

            “Something like what?”

            “Something… that means something.” Max loops a loose thread of the blanket around her finger and sighs. She never knows how to explain anything she feels. “I don’t want to live the rest of my life just trying to make it through the day, you know?”

            Chloe bites her lip, thinking, still playing with the edge of the blanket. “I know. But maybe making it through the day does mean something,” she says tentatively. “Maybe right now you’re just supposed to be preparing yourself for your next big adventure or whatever.”

            “I think I’ve had enough adventure to last a lifetime.”

            “Okay, so maybe not _literal_ adventure, but… you know what I mean.” Chloe nudges Max’s arm with her elbow. “The world wouldn’t be the same without you, so you must be doing something right.”

            Max rests her head on her shoulder.

            Chloe smiles and yawns, and Max remembers that she woke her up in the middle of the night. She wouldn’t be entirely opposed to getting back into bed now, but there’s also something nice about the couch, the blanket, the candles. Something warm. Safe.

            Chloe’s always been that for her. Max can only hope she’s can be all of that for Chloe, too.

            Then, she thinks, as Chloe leans against her, soft and steady, maybe that’s exactly what she’s supposed to be doing.

            (She’s the person Mas has most wanted to mean something to after all).

            “Can we go back to bed?” Chloe asks, and Max whispers a yes into the side of her neck.

            She breathes her in until she doesn’t feel the same hollow in the back of her chest and blows the candles out one by one.

 

 

 


End file.
